


The Fuzz

by GloriaVictoria



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Blowjobs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mustaches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaVictoria/pseuds/GloriaVictoria
Summary: Newton grows a mustache and Hermann hates it...until he doesn't.





	The Fuzz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [werewolfwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfwords/gifts).



> This was a gift for werewolfwords, a good chap I met on the ol' K-Science Discord server. 
> 
> ******* Like my work? Please consider supporting me with a Ko-fi! https://ko-fi.com/C0C5CWYM *******

"Surely you're joking."   
  
"Nope! Isn't it awesome?"  
  
Freshly returned from a presentation in Geneva, Hermann walked in the door of his and Newton's shared apartment to find he had grown the most appalling moustache he had ever seen. Really, it looked as if a fuzzy brown caterpillar had taken up residence on his face. Honestly, he found himself more terrified by the speed at which he had grown it. The conference had lasted a long while, about a week, and counting travel and a short visit with his mother back home, he had been gone nearly a fortnight. Yet it nearly consumed his top lip, which upset Hermann more than anything--he loved Newton's lips. How would he enjoy kissing them with that...abomination smothering them?   
  
"Seriously?? You don't like it?" Newton frowned petulantly, his arms crossed over his chest. “What the hell, man?”  
  
"I believe I made myself perfectly clear before, but allow me to reiterate: _no._ ” Newton rolled his eyes and waved Hermann away.   
  
"Whatever, dude. You don't understand how cool I look, what else is new?" Hermann shook his head and went on to the bedroom, neatly unpacking. As he did, he noticed a battered record case on Newton's desk.   
  
Queen. Christ, _that_ explained it. Newton had the impulse control of a Chihuahua. He had probably revisited this album and decided, on a whim, he _needed_ a moustache like that.  
  
Hermann went back downstairs and started a pot of tea. "I want to inform you before you get too far into this...choice you've made: you don't look a thing like Freddie Mercury." He nodded firmly. “I’d go ahead and shave it off before it’s too late.”  
  
"Babe. Don't cramp my style. I look _better_ than Freddie." Newton shot Hermann a salacious wink and he sighed deeply as he dropped in the tea bags. “But I appreciate your attempt at flattery.”  
  
"Your talent for self-delusion continues to stun me." Hermann tried his best to keep a straight face, but couldn't help a quiet chuckle as Newton shot off into a veritable lecture on the history of facial hair in rock and roll. Watching him gesticulate and pace around the room, literally jumping in the air at times in his excitement, brought Hermann a great deal of comfort. Hermann had learned to appreciate Newton's quirks, or at the very least tolerate them.   
  
"Very well. I'll give it a week. But really, it's quite horrible."   
  
"Really? Aw, babe, you're too good." Newton pulled Hermann down and, missing his cheek, kissed him square on the jaw. A shiver ran down Hermann's spine.   
  
First observation: moustaches tickled. Hermann found himself having to step outside to cool himself down.  
  
This was going to be a long week. 

* * *

Second observation: moustaches were disgusting. Newton constantly had to remove things from it, clean it (at Hermann's request), things fell out of it on to Newton's shirt. Horrible. Newton had grown somewhat discouraged on the third day, when Hermann refused to let him kiss him on the mouth.   
  
"Babe, whyyyyy?"  
  
"You absolutely know why." Hermann clicked the butt of his cane against the tile floor for emphasis.  
  
"Aww, come on. It's not that bad!"   
  
"I have already expressed my feelings on the matter." Hermann turned to head back into his office, but Newton caught him by the sleeve, and soon he had his back to the wall and Newton’s mouth to his ear. That tickled too, dammit.  
  
"Hm. Guess I'll just have to kiss you somewhere else, then." After Newton descended to his knees and unbuckled Hermann's belt, he didn't have many feelings about it at all.

Third observation: moustaches, while still horrible, provided opportunities for stimulating sensory experiences. He tried to forget later that he had conceded to Newton’s mustache having _some_ use, but he had difficulty doing so while busy pulling Newton by the hair and fucking his mouth.

He’d get to it later.

* * *

“You know, you would look _super_ weird with a moustache.”

“Pardon me?” Hermann sat his spoon down on the edge of his plate as Newton mused over their dinner. He’d insisted they go out because they hadn’t in a long while, but Hermann secretly suspected he wanted to show off his facial hair. Particularly since he had spent the last twenty minutes craning his head around, winking and grinning at anyone who made eye contact.

“Yeah, like...I’m glad you shave a lot.” Newton took a bite of his salad and shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

“Newton, do close your mouth when you’re chewing.” Hermann muttered and took a drink of his water. He found himself suddenly wishing he had ordered something stronger. “Furthermore, which one of us deigned to grow a cattail on their face?” Newton burst out laughing.

“Did you sit around thinking of ways to insult my ‘stache? That’s so funny.” Hermann rolled his eyes.

“No. I said it looks like a cattail because it does.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, what makes you think I wouldn’t look good with facial hair?”

Newton snorted and took a drink of his beer. “First of all, you look like a Bond villain already, so if you added a moustache, like...I’d have to call the cops. It might take over your mind and make you rob a bank or something. Second of all, I _like_ your face clean. I like making it messy, and if you grew a moustache I know you’d bitch and moan about me coming in it—“

“You know, I will just stop you right there, Newton.” Hermann’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he buried his face in the dessert menu for cover. “We _are_ in public.”

“Then let’s get in private.” Newton smirked and cocked his eyebrow.

“We are on the salad course, Newton.”

“So we are.”

Fourth observation: Newton apparently thought himself a Casanova with a moustache, more than usual. Nevertheless, he _did_ manage to convince Hermann to join him in the restaurant bathroom. Newton had even brought condoms and lubricant, though Hermann refused to use them—he _did_ have more dignity than a quickie over a toilet. Not so much dignity as to refuse Newton a blowjob, however.

Sometimes Hermann hated how Newton could play him, but not today.

* * *

 

The next morning, Hermann woke up early. His dreams had clanked and groaned him awake, and the sounds of Jaeger knees and elbows grinding underneath a mass of Kaiju flesh shook him to the point where he could not get back to sleep. The sun had only just begun to rise, but enough light filtered through the curtains for Hermann’s eyes to sting, and he rolled over to face Newton. He still slept like a rock, his eyes flickering behind their lids and his hand thrown over his head.

Then his eyes fell upon the moustache. That horrible, detestable thing.

Just two more days... Hermann rolled over and covered his head with his pillow, grumbling to himself.

As much as he hated to admit it, Newton _did_ look handsome, in a scruffy, roguish sort of way. By now he’d also begun growing some stubble, and it often scraped against Hermann’s skin when he nuzzled into his neck or other more compromising locations. He didn’t hate that either. Hermann looked back at Newton from underneath the pillow and leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

It wasn’t awful. In fact, it felt quite soft on his lips. Newton stirred beneath him.

“Mmm...mornin’, babe. What time is it?” His voice cracked and he blinked the sleep blearily from his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not that late.” Hermann kissed him again, sliding his hand over his thigh and down, between his legs. “Besides, I have you right where I want you.”

“Ah...shit, Hermann...” Newton wrapped his arms around Hermann’s neck, moaning into his mouth as Hermann stroked him lazily, slotting himself between Newton’s legs.

“Hush, _mein geliebter._ Let me enjoy you.” Newton whimpered as Hermann disappeared under the sheets, relishing the symphony of whines and gasps muffled through the duvet.

Fifth observation: Hermann really ought to try new things before he knocks them.

* * *

 

Sixth observation: Newton tired of things as soon as Hermann could fully adjust to them.

By the end of the week, Newton had shaved the moustache off. Of course. As soon as Hermann had gotten used to it—nay, as soon as Hermann began to _like it._ It had grown in rather nicely, actually, and rather than looking like a fuzzy caterpillar, with the stubble and whatnot he looked rather handsome. Hermann didn’t even mind the scratch of it when they kissed. It was almost sexy.

“Yeah, I dunno, man. Just doesn’t really match my aesthetic.” Newton shrugged, digging into his eggs and bacon.

“You...you just shaved it off?” Hermann tried not to sound disappointed and failed miserably. Newton, thankfully, didn’t seem to pick up on that.

“Well, yeah. I figured you’d be happy, you didn’t like it. Right? That was part of why—“ Hermann put his finger to Newton’s lips, pulled him close.

“I will love you whether you choose to grow a caterpillar on your face or not.” Newton’s face lit up with shades of pink and red. Hermann chuckled, running his thumb over his freshly-shaven cheek.

“U-uh, well, yeah...” Hermann kissed him on the lips, enjoying their smoothness, but savoring Newton’s little whine even more. _Perfection._ “Mmm, Herm...you _liked_ it, didn’t you?” He said with a mischievous grin.

Seventh observation: next time Newton chose to grow a moustache, Hermann would reciprocate. _That_ would teach him. He really _couldn’t_ grow one to save his life.


End file.
